Christmas Eve
by Bottled.Stardust
Summary: The Doctor is anxious about something, but he won't tell Clara why. [One-shot]


Clara had been just about to make tea when she heard the familiar sound of her doorbell being rung over and over and over again. With a small shake of her head, she walked out of the kitchen to the door, where his silhouette was just visible.

"It's Tuesday, you know," She told him as she opened the door, the hint of a smile on her lips. She leaned against the doorframe. "You're early."

He tapped her on the nose and whisked past her into the flat. "I thought you didn't like it when I was late, Clara Oswald!" He called back to her. "If you really don't like calling it 'early', we can just call it really late for last Wednesday." By now, he was in her kitchen, and he stuck his head back out to glance at her again. "How's that?"

Clara shook her head and chuckled, closing the door behind her and following him into the kitchen. "Really late for last Wednesday works," She replied. "So, to what do I owe this special visit?"

The Doctor was going through her cupboards, pulling out mugs and tea bags as if she were the guest, not him. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll decide eventually. By the way, you've redecorated, haven't you? I don't like it."

She stifled a laugh as she perched herself on the counter, watching him make tea as erratically as he would pilot the TARDIS. "New flat, Chin Boy," She informed him. "How'd you even find me? I didn't give you my address."

The Time Lord froze in his tracks, as if just realizing he wasn't in the Maitlands' house. She watched him, amused, as he slowly moved his hands back down to the mugs and picked them up, setting them down close to the kettle. "I didn't realize the differences," He replied simply, not glancing over as he filled the kettle. "These places all look the same."

Clara's smile shrank slightly. "Doctor, I'm in a flat on the other side of town, six stories up. Are you _sure_ you didn't notice?"

"Definitely sure." He turned just for a moment, giving her a searching look before turning back to the stove. "Nice place, though."

"I thought you said you didn't like it." Clara hopped off the counter and crossed her arms, watching him closely. He seemed off, somehow—like there was something else entirely on his mind.

"No, no. It's lovely. Do you like it here?"

Clara pursed her lips and didn't respond. "You're acting weird," She told him. "Properly weird. Is something wrong?"

"What?" Again, he shot her another glance, and she still couldn't read the emotion in his eyes. "Oh. No, no, nothing's wrong. Absolutely fine."

She stood in silence as he pulled out his sonic and aimed it at the kettle. The familiar pulsing sound broke the quiet, and the kettle began to hum. "I do hate waiting," He murmured, more to himself than to her, as he pocketed the tool and poured the tea.

Clara took her mug and wrapped her fingers around it, inhaling the warm, herbal fragrance, and took a small sip, wincing as the hot water burned her tongue. The Doctor, however, seemed to be fixated on his own tea—stirring it rhythmically with one of her spoons, saying nothing.

With a small sigh, Clara set her own mug down and found herself twisting her mum's ring around her finger—something she did when she was anxious. It was a rather inconspicuous movement, but it seemed to get the Doctor's attention. He glanced up right away. "Are you all right?"

She gaped at him a little bit. "Am _I _okay?" She repeated, her eyebrows creeping up her forehead.

"You're fiddling with your mum's ring again," He noted, nodding towards it. "I know that means you're feeling worried."

She glanced down at her hands and dropped them to her sides with an exasperated sigh. "I'm fine, honestly," She insisted. Silence enveloped them again, like a suffocating blanket.

He went back to stirring his tea absentmindedly. She took to taking small sips of hers, watching the steam curl off the surface and wondering what was wrong with him that he'd stay silent this long. She glanced up at him and was surprised to find that he was the one who had taken to watching her intently; but the moment their eyes met, his dropped back to his tea. She set her mug down again and crossed the tiny kitchen to stand in front of him. Gently, she reached out, took the mug from the Doctor's trembling fingers, and set it down on the counter behind him. He opened his mouth in protest, but she looked up at him and interrupted. "What's wrong?"

She saw him shift subconsciously, crossing his arms, pursing his lips. "What would make you think anything was wrong? I am absolutely fine, Clara Oswald."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop lying. Come on, something's obviously bothering you."

"What makes you say that?"

She crossed her arms, mirroring his position. "I didn't hear the TARDIS sound," She replied. "That means you parked on the ground, walked up six flights of stairs and were too distracted to notice. Now come on. What is it?"

Instead of answering her question, he responded with one of his own, his eyes meeting hers. "Are you happy?"

She was slightly taken aback. "Happy?" She repeated. "With what?"

"Us. Wednesdays. Traveling, seeing the universe, but carrying on for six other days as if you live a normal life. Are you happy like that?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out other than a small stuttering sound. "I—I don't understand. Why?"

His shoulders slumped and he looked away. "It's Christmas Eve," He mumbled.

Clara blinked, processing the words, and realized he was right. It was December 24th, and somehow she'd forgotten in the wake of his surprise visit and strange mood. Still, that didn't explain his behavior. "What about it?"

His green eyes flickered to meet hers again before he took a tiny step back from her and reached into his pocket. She watched as he pulled something out, but kept his hand closed around it. She could see something in a crack between two of his fingers catch the light. "I had gotten something," He murmured, shrugging slightly, his gaze now focused on his clenched fist. "I hadn't realized you were planning on settling down into a flat."

Clara gave him a searching look, before cautiously reaching out with both her hands to cup his. She worked her slender fingers in between his and slowly uncurled them, revealing the object—a small silver key, strung on a tangled chain draped over his palm. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands, hearing the soft _slosh_ of smooth metal as the fine chain slipped off his palm and dangled in the air. "What is it?" She asked quietly, running a finger over the jagged edge of the key.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him give a small smile, that looked more sad than anything. "It was going to be me," He told her softly, "giving in."

The words sounded familiar to her, though she couldn't quite put her finger on where she'd heard them before. "What do you mean, it was?"

As she looked up to him again, he gave another shrug and gestured helplessly around them. "I hadn't realized… All this," He said finally. "I thought you still wanted to travel all the time, finally see those places in your mum's book. But maybe we all grow out of traveling, in the end."

Clara bit her lower lip. "Wait here," She instructed, gently placing the key back into his palm and running from the room. She returned, moments later, clutching _101 Places to See_ against her chest. He watched her silently as she came back to stand in front of him, and tilted the book so he could read the cover. "I keep this book," She told him, "'Cause I'm still going. I'm still gonna see all these places one day, and I'm never going to want to stop traveling." She saw the flicker of hope in his eyes as she leaned around him to place the book on the counter beside his long-forgotten tea. "Now, whatever this is about, don't assume that my buying a flat's gonna change any of it."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Well, then, Clara Oswald," He said, "I have something for you." Once again, he held out the little key. "This is a key to the TARDIS. I want you to come traveling with me all the time. If—If you want, of course."

"What, live on the TARDIS?" Clara took the little silver object from him once again, and ran the chain through her fingers.

"If you want," He repeated quickly. "You don't have to."

Clara played with the idea in her mind. If she were still a nanny for the Maitland kids, it would have been a definite no. She had things to do, after all. But she'd been living in her new flat for less than a week, and already it felt boring. Quiet. She had thought she'd like it, but she didn't. Maybe she just didn't like being alone.

And then there was the Doctor. He was offering her the entire universe in the form of a little key, and more than that he was offering her companionship. Someone to travel with. And that sounded pretty nice.

She closed her fingers around the key and smiled at him. "I'd like that," She replied quietly.

His face split into a grin, eyes sparkling, and he pulled her into a tight hug. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, the key still held tightly in one hand.

The Doctor pulled away and cupped her face in his hands, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She let him take the key from her and drape the chain around her neck, which she then reached up to touch, feeling the cold metal against her collarbones. "When do we leave?" She questioned excitedly, meeting his gaze.

"Any time you want," He told her with another smile. "If you don't want to right away, that's—"

She shushed him. "Give me ten minutes to pack. Meet you in the TARDIS."

"Brilliant! Wonderful! See you then." The Time Lord ran out of the room, and she heard his clunky footsteps on the wooden floor, but a moment later he stuck his head back in. "Where to first?"

She grinned at him as she tucked the book under her arm, took a sip of tea and slipped out the kitchen doorway. "Something awesome."


End file.
